


Time jumbled our steps (it has cat green eyes like yours)

by missMHO



Series: erlebnisse [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels & Guides, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Guide!Q, M/M, Sentinel!Bond, Sentinel/Guide, Translation Available, 中文翻译 | Translation in Chinese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-06
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-23 22:40:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/627305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missMHO/pseuds/missMHO
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q’s twenty-seven and has been a Guide for half his life and he’s already come to terms with the fact there was no one for him.<br/>And now... A broken double-oh?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Now also available in Chinese:[translation](http://www.mtslash.com/forum.php?mod=viewthread&tid=80876&pid=1420610&page=1&extra=#pid1420610) by Caroline Lu**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first attempt at writing a SentinelGuide!AU. Also I'm non-native user of English and have no beta, so I'm extremely sorry for any grammar/vocab mistakes.
> 
> The title was taken from the lyrics of a[Polish song by band Coma](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uteGVgn4Hkc).
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy the story. Any feedback is very welcome! :)

It’s not that he has anything against ships. Bond was never one to be jaded, he would have never joined the navy otherwise. But preceding few months were not really the best of his life. Firstly being shot by a co-agent (a freaking Guide who decided to go in the field), followed by the self-destructing vacation. Now the whole disarray with bombed MI-6 headquarters and stolen hard drive. Not to mention the barely passed tests (who the hell even thought it would be a good idea to mention _Skyfall_ during his psychological evaluation? Bloody shrinks).

He still doesn’t feel completely ready to be out in the field. He feels old and broken and his Sentinel senses has recently started to betray him. But he would rather die in some alley in Shanghai than by overuse of alcohol in some hotel in London as an ex-double-oh.

So now he sits in an art gallery, of all things, and waits to meet his new Quartermaster and finally take off for the mission. And he sits in front of this damned painting of a ship. _The Fighting Temeraire Tugged To Her Last Berth To Be Broken Up_ , he reads the note under the frame. Just hilarious. (Though, he is partly thankful for the place being an art gallery. His senses have been going crazy since his last “death” and the relative silence of the place is almost soothing.

All this _nearly_ makes him think that having a Guide would be quite nice. Someone to actually _care_ about his state and bring the blissful tranquillity to the overstimulated senses.)

It’s not a thing that happens every time he’s faced with a boat. But he’s having harsh time, didn’t really sleep well and it just happens. The associations unfolds by themselves in his brain. The water and the boats. Venice. Vesper.

He hates being melancholic when he’s this much of a wreck.

ж

Q seems to be unable to move. He hates to be late but he’s just standing there, a couple of steps separating 007 and him and he _can’t_ close this distance.

It’s not supposed to happen. He has already made peace with himself. Accepted the fact he’s defective. That he won’t ever bond and just live through his life with a hole in his chest.

And now he can’t move because -  in the most sublime form of paradox - for the first time in his life he feels this _pull_. His Russian blue, his feline spirit animal, is purring at his feet, observing the agent on the bench with amusement.

But it can’t be. It’s not possible. There was never anyone compatible. He’s twenty-seven and has been a Guide for half his life and he’s already came to terms with the fact there was _no one_ for him. Damn him, if MI-6 hadn’t been trying to match him with any unbonded Sentinel in their array, knowing how that would improve his already exceptional skills. Some of them even felt pulled to Q, but it was never mutual. He long ago ceased believing in the fairytales like having one destined soulmate Sentinel somewhere looking for him. But to be nobody for him...

And now... A broken double-oh?

He takes a shuddering breath and sits on the bench next to James Bond. He hates himself for how anxious he feels. That’s not him. He’s strong. He can manage and he _will_.

“Always makes me feel a little melancholy,” he says and curses himself in his mind. He always blathers when he’s either overtired or nervous. Then he adds something more about the painting and when he realizes he’s indirectly offending the agent, he wants to shoot himself in the head. _Great start, Q._

No wonder the Sentinel wants to leave as soon as Q finishes his peculiar monologue.

“007,” he calls after him and the other man returns to his place.

It’s when, not long later, they shake hands, he truly feels it again. This pull, the need to surrender himself to Bond and at the same time take care of wrecked agent, never leave his side again, become _his_. But Bond’s impossibly blue eyes are steady when they take in Guide’s appearance. Curious and bewildered, but also tired and absent and there’s no spark that would indicate he felt the same.

Q has the sudden urge to curl up at the very bench he’s sitting on. But he doesn’t. He’s stronger than that. He is an unbonded Guide who became the youngest head of department in the history of MI-6 and no Sentinel is going to change that, especially one visibly not interested in him.

But the almost primal _need_ to bend his head back and uncover his neck for 007 is overwhelming.

He finishes the meeting as swiftly as he can.

ж

There’s something about this youngster that calls himself his Quartermaster that makes him linger in Bond’s mind. He can’t really put a finger on it and it’s irritating him. He tries not to think about it, but flights to Shanghai are not particularly interesting and he ends up analyzing the meeting in art gallery over and over again. He must admit that Q is witty and enthralling in being so easy to underestimate, but if these were the only things, it won’t bother him this much. What did he miss? Once again, he wishes his senses would start cooperating with him, like they used to.

Then, much later, when the female Guide, Eve, visits him in Macau, the only detail he cherishes in his mind from this meeting is learning the fact that apparently Q is afraid of flying.

Why would he pay so much attention to it?

ж

Q is rapt with work, the agency system still needing to be improved with new defence protocols after latest attacks, when unexpectedly his heart makes a weird jerk. He stops typing, amused by the phenomenon. Then he notices 007 entering the Q-Branch.

The Sentinel is casting glances around him, taking in the small crowd of technicians working restlessly, but he’s clearly heading for Q’s desk. Q can almost hear his spirit purr.

“Q,” the agent says.

“007. I’ve already been given your radio. What happened to the Walther?”

Bond shrugs and his sky blue eyes don’t leave the quartermaster, like he is some kind of puzzle to solve. It doesn’t necessarily make the younger man more comfortable. “I’m afraid it was consumed by a komodo dragon.”

Q can’t stop himself from rising his brows in exasperated look. “Have you just said that you fed a giant reptile with my gun?”

The Sentinel smiles charmingly as a response. Q sighs and adjusts his glasses. _You can do it, just act like he isn’t the only person in the world that would make you complete._

“May I ask what is the reason for your visit here? Can I help you with anything?”

007 puts his hands in his trousers’ pockets and glares at the multiple screens. “I wanted to be present when you decode Silva’s computer.”

“You came right on time, then.”

 _Just don’t show off,_ he tells himself. It’s _just_ a Sentinel.

“Now, looking at Silva’s computer...”

ж

Q is staring at his hands with hateful expression. He failed. He set Silva out. He should have seen through all this.

The escaped Sentinel is right. He’s not ‘a clever boy’. He’s a bloody idiot. His first month as a Quartermaster and he has allowed such a disaster to happen.

No wonder Bond didn’t even recognize him as a potentially compatible Guide. He wouldn’t want himself either.

The shields he has taken up so long ago and kept always up, protecting him from the surrounding world, suddenly shatter and the emotions of the present technicians attack him with overwhelming force. The fear, doubt, anxiety, desperation, confusion, doubt, anger, _doubt_.

His Russian blue makes himself visible next to the keyboard and hisses at Q angrily.

He needs all his strength to stop his knees from giving out, when his own empathy is crushing him. He buries his face in his hands, curling the fingers on the frames on his glasses. He needs to focus, raise his shields again...

“Q, he’s gone,” Bond’s voice is resonating from the intercom and suddenly it seems enough. Q focuses on it, missing the meaning of the following sentence, but he feels he’s taking control over his ferocious empathy with agent’s voice as an anchor. He lifts the shields with a sigh of relief.

“Do you read me, Q?”

“I can hear you,” he says, grateful that his voice doesn’t shake. “I’m looking for you.”

He starts typing furiously trying to track his Sen— _the_ Sentinel.

ж

M is sitting in the back of the car and Bond knows he needs to disappear and form a plan. He needs someone he trusts who would lead Silva to his accord.

The first person he thinks of is Q and that’s somehow surprising. Rationally it’s a good choice, he’s the technical genius who can play Silva in his own virtual game. The young quartermaster may have lost the first round, but Bond knows really well that it wasn’t Q’s fault. Even his skills couldn’t stop something planned so carefully.

What really bothers the Sentinel is the fact that he simply doesn’t trust people this easily. But somehow Q is an exception to this rule. And Bond doesn’t really have time to consider it now, just follows his gut.

“Q. I need help.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fitted all the events from "Skyfall" in this chapter, next chapters won't be cut into pieces so much - I just didn't want to bore you with repeating the whole film :P
> 
> And yes, I _did_ start the fic with sentence about ships.


	2. Chapter 2

Bond is sitting in the dark of the soundproof room in the Medical of MI-6 headquarters. His wounds have been tended and he was given a sedative that should soothe his senses.

He feels on the verge of losing his mind.

His head is pounding, skin feels like it’s on fire and unbearable weight on his chest is making him suffocate. He feels so helpless, he almost wants to zone out if that would stop all _this_.

M is dead and it is his fault. Everyone he ever truly cared about is now dead, his home burnt down and he can’t even control his senses. His Sentinel nature is betraying him again and this time, he doesn’t possess any more will to fight.

There are steps outside the room and he isn’t supposed to perceive the sound of them, he shouldn’t, he is in a room made especially for Sentinels on the verge of losing control. Even though, he makes those imaginary steps centre of his attention and tries to overfocus his hearing.

_Let me zone out and never wake up._

He hears a _meow_ in the corner of the room and startles, trying to make out any shape in the darkness. It’s soon followed by another one, almost scolding. He must have finally lost it.

The meowing doesn’t stop and it feels like ages. It’s the only variable thing in this void and he can’t tune it out... He breaks out of the room after the aeon of struggle and this _damned meowing_.

The cat is sitting in front of the door, his tail swaying in amusement as he watches the Sentinel. He has very svelte figure, even for a cat, his fur is grey and eyes are of impossible shade of green. Those eyes remind him of somebody... Cat purrs almost approvingly and starts pacing towards the end of the corridor. When stunned Bond doesn’t follow him, this furry nuisance looks back and once again meows at him. The Sentinel laughs with sick desperation. Cats can’t make scolding sounds. That’s ridiculous. And with that thought, he follows.

He drags his feet behind him and leans on the wall to keep vertical position. His grey guide stops from time to time to check if Bond is still trailing. Sentinel isn’t really sure why he does it at all. Maybe because that keeps the cat quiet, maybe because something inside of him actually seems to pull him towards, maybe because when you no longer have any purpose in life, following a scolding cat seems appealing.

He realizes he arrived at Q-Branch when the silent hum of a single computer fills his ears. Q turns around abruptly the moment Sentinel lays his eyes on him.

“007?” he says shocked, approaching him hurriedly. He lets Bond lean on his fragile figure and starts steering him towards the nearest door. The cat sits on the nearby desk and purrs, visibly pleased.

“Is this your bloody cat? It wouldn’t stop making noise until I followed him,” the Sentinel says as they enter some room. It must be where the employees of Q-Branch spend their breaks, there’re cupboards there, a table dotted with mugs, a couple of chairs and a huge couch. The latter is where both of them finally end up.

“Is it even allowed to keep pets here?” he’s mumbling when Q puts him to lay on the couch with agent’s head on younger man’s lap. “It shouldn’t be, you know how they can irritate Sentinels’ senses?” he keeps talking when slender delicate fingers are buried in his short hair. He looks up at the pale face above him, green eyes gazing into him with unbearable fondness. It was his eyes that the cat reminded him of.

Suddenly, Bond realizes how his senses calmed down since he entered Q-Branch. There’s a presence that seems to swathe him, fills him with tranquillity and hope for better. It makes him feel at peace, like he hasn’t felt for _years_.

The realization hits him and he would probably stand abruptly and start pacing calling himself stupid, _if_ he wasn’t feeling _so_ _comfortable._

“You’re a Guide,” he says instead, crossing his gaze with Q. The green-eyed man smiles sadly and nods, his hands still stroking Sentinel’s hair, projecting the serenity towards wrecked agent.

His senses are settling and sharpening, like they hadn’t in months and—

 _Oh_.

This irresistible pull, the need to claim and protect, the need to bond – seeming to crawl out of his very being, when the fog tethering his senses finally thinned. He takes a deep breath and Q’s scent is filling him, every fibre of his body. He hasn’t felt it since Vesper and it’s almost like coming home after long tiring journey; like resurrecting.

 “You’re _my_ Guide,” he says like Q is something precious because he _is_. “This damned cat is your spirit, isn’t it? It guided me to you.”

In response, Q takes a deep breath and makes a sound that Bond can’t define, he can’t tell if it was a chuckle or a sob and it irritates him.

“You need to rest,” the green-eyed quartermaster says and plants a ghost of a kiss on Bond’s forehead. He falls asleep almost immediately, mantled in the presence of the Guide.

ж

Bond wakes up alone, rested and lacking. His senses are not as ragged as during past months, but there’s suddenly a goring hole in his chest. It was always there but he learnt to disregard it with a success. Now it’s like re-opened wound dusted with salt. He knows the reason for his contradicted state and he’s still not sure what to do about it. For a moment, he chooses to ignore the problem.

He doesn’t feel like getting up, still keeping his eyes shut. The coach is relatively comfortable and he really doesn’t want to face the reality yet.

He stretches his freshly regenerated senses a bit and listens to the sounds of working Q-Branch behind the wall. There’s almost soothing hum of five—no, six working computers in the background. It must be still very early in the morning as only few employees are present. Seven persons in total; four humans, two bonded Guides and a Sentinel (probably an agent getting his equipment before leaving for an assignment). There’s a staccato of restless typing on three keyboards, a conversation he has no interest in and a clack of a mug being put on the desk.

He sighs with contentment. He can’t remember the last time he used his skills with such ease, without getting sidetracked. 

He knows that Q is not in Q-Branch and probably not even in the headquarters at all. He would feel him, the pull... He doesn’t want to but he’s grateful for it.

ж

An hour later, Bond is opening the door to an apartment in a hotel near headquarters. He still hasn't purchased a new flat once the previous one was sold after his death. He lies down on the couch and helps himself to the bottle of whiskey he bought earlier. He isn't sure he can get through this sober.

He feels trapped. He _can't_ bond, it's in the description of the job. Double-ohs are supposed to be a bit unstable Sentinels, more inclinable to violence than the bonded ones. There are other groups of agents at MI-6 that are required to have a Guide, but _not_ double-ohs. Back then, for Vesper, he almost quitted MI-6. He sent in his resignation in order to be happy, fulfilled. They didn't want to rush anything and decided to bond after he's finally free of his duties. They were supposed to do it back then in Venice... Sometimes he still wonders...

After that he decided he would stay an unbonded double-oh agent, now and always, even if he ever meets someone compatible. But he hasn't predicted _this_. The way he feels pulled to Q is not the same like it was with Vesper. It's stronger, more primal, more imperative, more, _more_...

It's almost impossible how much influence the Guide had on him. He stopped him from losing the contact with reality due to overstimulation of senses - a thing which was impossible for bonded (more powerful and experienced) Guides from Medical. Vesper never had such control over him, even after they spent so much time together. Can it be...?

He always took it for a fairytale for teen Guides and Sentinels, a story that is supposed to help them cope with being different than the majority of the society. A spoof telling that their species exist in pairs and they're bound to find this one Guide or Sentinel that would complete them, their bond would be unbreakable and they would understand each other like no one else, imprint on their perfect match and finally feel whole. The pull towards them would be so strong, there would be no doubt...

He loved Vesper and they were compatible as a Sentinel and Guide, but what he felt during those _minutes_ with Q yesterday – it suddenly makes him believe in this fairytale. The only thing he can think of now is finding the quartermaster and never letting him out of his sight again. He needs him to an extent of physical pain; he can already feel returning tangling of senses. At the same time, he is restless in his unawareness of Q’s state, twitchy to storm out of the hotel and protect him from any possible danger. Paradoxically, the predator side of his nature wants to pin down this green-eyed skinny boy, scent every millimetre of delicate skin, dig his teeth into the pale neck and mark him, claim the Guide for himself. He growls out loud at the thought.

And the last thing he can’t ignore - he saw his spirit animal, for god’s sake! He has never seen Vesper’s. It’s something quite intimate, reserved for bonded pairs, almost literal baring of one’s soul. And Q’s spirit simply appeared for him and led him to the Guide.

“Well, _fuck,_ ” he says taking a gulp of the alcohol right from the bottle.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it seemed I decided on shorter but more frequent updates :P  
> I'll publish as much as I manage before the exam session hunts me down...
> 
> Still no beta and the quality of my English is still doubtable. But any feedback is still welcome :D  
> (a lot of 'stills' for one sentence... I'm just really tired.)
> 
> I'm still not sure how this story turns out... But I have fun writing it :P


	3. Chapter 3

Q is approaching the headquarters with a take away coffee in his hand, when Bond’s presence hits him. He needs to actually stop and take a deep breath. Or three.

He didn’t get a wink of sleep since that night. His empathy is out of control, shields keep shattering, his whole being calling out for the Sentinel he left in the break-room of Q-Branch two days ago.

After their first meeting in the art gallery, he thought he would be able to manage, to work with Bond and ignore the pull towards him. But that night tore this plan to shreds. When he actually felt the connection with the Sentinel and those ridiculously blue eyes looked at him like he was the most precious thing in the world, he knew he was done for. There was no good ending to this. He would never be able to forget the sensation of being wanted and bringing bliss to the Sentinel; but he would never bond with a double-oh either. It was like getting a taste of something unimaginably good and then getting your tongue ripped out, with that flavour left in your mind.

He startles when he realizes the presence is gradually getting stronger. At first he assumed that Bond was simply inside the building, but he must also be on his way. That’s when Q sees him, walking from the other end of the street. Their eyes meet, his heart shatters and he _knows_ that Bond is coming _to him_.

He can’t move, so he ends up waiting for the Sentinel to reach him after what seems like aeon of trying to keep his shields up. For a moment he’s weighed down by the emotions of a quarrelling human couple in a car standing nearby, but he manages to tune himself out. When he opens his eyes, after not realising he closed them in the first place, Bond is standing in front of him with mien of worry painted on his face.

“We need to talk,” he says quietly and Guide only nods in response.

They decide agreeably that they won’t feel comfortable inside the headquarters and walk to the nearest park, both rapt with their own thoughts on the way. They occupy the first empty bench they come across and for a long moment, just watch people walking their dogs and jogging by.

“Q, I—“ Bond hesitates and the Guide can’t help but cringe a little at the sound of his name. “I can’t bond with you.”

“I know,” he replies too quickly. “Double-ohs’ policy.”

Q’s grip on the coffee tightens and the prolonged contact with hot liquid within thin-walled container makes his palms prickle. He’s grateful for its strong smell of cinnamon filling his nostrils. Bond’s scent still cuts through it but is more bearable (and Q thinks that if it wasn’t for the intensity of cinnamon, he would have already bared his throat to the other man and _begged_ for being bitten).

“I wouldn’t make a good Sentinel,” the agent persists and his hoarse voice reverberates in Q’s skull. “You’ll find someone better than me,” he says, though it barely makes it out of his throat. “You’re barely twenty, whole life is ahead of you.”

The Guide’s chuckle is hollow and his hands are starting to hurt from holding the coffee. “I’m twenty seven, 007. And it’s not— Nevermind.”

He can’t continue, his hands starts to shake and his shields crumble. He feels his empathy going wild as his nature of a Guide attempts to convey his caveat to losing _the_ Sentinel. Trying to regain control seems an infinite struggle, though it probably doesn’t last more than a minute. When his eyes focus again, Bond is looking at him intently, with fear and uncontaminated possessiveness.

“You’re in pain,” he says dazed. “Your hands...”

He takes the coffee from the quartermaster and puts it under the bench.

 _He shouldn’t have known, it’s impossible, he can’t sense my feelings, we are not bonded,_ Q chants in his mind as the Sentinel tenderly takes younger man’s hands into his. The delicate skin on his palms is red and sore and Bond gazes at it as if he’s holding someone dying in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” the Sentinel says almost inaudible and then rapidly gets up and walks further into the park.

ж

As he enters Q-Branch, the majority of the employees look up from their work and glance at him with bewilderment. Q's known rather for working overtime than being late, but nobody says anything. When he’s halfway to his workstation, Daniel - one of the older technicians who’s been working for MI-6 for some years now and of whom Q is rather fond - approaches him. A bit of worry shows on his face as he eyes his boss.

"Miss Moneypenny called," he reports. "007 and 009 are being sent out on missions today. Documentation was e-mailed to you and the equipment is to be prepared by eleven o’clock."

"Thank you, Daniel," Q says, feeling the headache pounding in his temples. He’s thinking about taking the painkillers he keeps in his desks in case of such occurrences and that's when he realizes his coffee is still under the bench in the park, where Bond put it and...

"Daniel, could you please fetch me some tea? Strong one, no sugar," he calls after him and it sounds more like a plea than an order and the other man frowns a little as he says "Of course, sir," and leaves for the break room.

Q sighs heavily as he sinks into his chair and enters the password to his computer. He needs to compose himself before Bond comes to collect his equipment. This whole situation with their pull towards each other is _ridiculous_. How is this even possible? They're so diverse and disparate, how can they even be compatible?! 

Despite everything, it _is_ happening. And they have no choice but to cope with it. He _will_ endure. He won't lose everything he worked for just because the Guide inside of him made the worst choice possible. He _will_ endure and live as an unbounded Guide. Even if he does not fully believe in it himself.

ж

Q has problems concentrating as he is actually waiting for the upcoming meeting with Bond – and hates himself for it. It’s really not going to turn out well if his life starts to consist of bitter-sweet encounters with the Sentinel and the anticipating for them in between. 009 left the Q-Branch with his equipment fifteen minutes ago and since that, Q hasn’t managed to do anything productive. He can’t stop analysing their conversation in the park, even though it feels like digging his own grave.

Half an hour later, Quartermaster feels Bond approaching and ensures that his mental shields are intact. He can’t allow another breakdown - he needs to learn how to cope around 007, especially since it's not desirable for some of the Guide-technicians to pick up some emotions that should not be known to the MI-6. When Bond actually enters, Q’s checking (for the fourth time) the algorithm he wrote earlier that will be necessary for the following mission.

“I’ve heard you have something for me,” Bond says when he reaches the Quartermaster’s workstation. He’s in a perfectly fitting navy suit, his hands buried in the pockets, with the attitude of usual nonchalance surrounding him. It helps Q relax a little, too.

“Indeed, I have and I _hope_ you will take care of them this time. Those are not _toys_ for you to play with and break when you feel like it.”

“Seems like I’ve been deluded for _years_! Thanks for clearing that up, Q.”

“Oh, it’s my pleasure to serve you, 007.”

Their exchange comes so naturally and feels so comfortable, that when they both realise the occurrence, sudden tension forms between them and the Sentinel physically takes a step back. Q busies his hands with taking out the set of equipment and laying each piece on the other side of the desk, within agent’s reach. He’s not sure he will bear even brush of touch today, though his whole being is begging for it.

“New personalised Walther,” the Guide explains, touching the described item. “Just in case, it should not be needed this time. Quickly reminder that it’s not a nutriment for reptiles.” Q looks at the Sentinel askance and gets an innocent shrug as a response.

“Communication devices,” he brushes an earpiece and a microphone with his fingertips. “And USB receiver. And no losing the earpiece in some sort of beverage. The contact must be maintained throughout the whole mission.”

“Who is to be my handler tonight?”

“It seems it’s going to be me, 007.”

Bond smiles possessively at the answer, collects his ration of gadgets, and the envelope with plane ticket to Ireland and leaves without another word.

ж

The Q-Branch is almost fully covered in darkness. There is only one row of lights on, just above the Quartermaster's workstation. It’s not an often occurence - there is always someone to be monitored in the other part of the world and time zone. But tonight it’s only the Q himself and 007 in his ear.

The plan of action is strict and clear. And this part requires the targeted hacker to leave his house and spend next few hours in a brothel – like he does every Thursday. And the agent is bound to wait.

“He’s making himself a coffee,” Bond informs exasperated. “Two— no, three sugar cubes and no milk... When will he kindly leave?”

“Stop moaning, 007.”

For no particular reason, the hacker is actually delaying his usual departure and the agent becomes bored. He’s been sitting on a tree next to the house for a second hour now. And for the last thirty minutes he’s been using his preternatural hearing to report in details, what the man is doing, to really uninterested Q. Bond shifts among the leaves and takes a deep breath. He’s silent for another ten minutes (and Q starts to regret that he silenced the agent) when the query drops.

"Have you ever felt such pull before?"

Q actually stops breathing for a moment, but calms quickly. It’s easier that way, when he’s all alone in the half-light of Q-Branch and Bond is just a voice (dangerously intoxicating and addicting voice) in his ear.

“No,” he answers simply, not yet ready to reveal everything. But he dares to ask. “You had almost bonded once, hadn’t you?”

“Yes, I had,” Bond says in a hollow voice. “But you know it all from my file.”

“The file does not state about your emotions,” Q retorts before he can stop himself. “And that’s what holds the most interest to me.”

The Guide thinks he hears a twig broke to a couple of pieces. “It was devastating. I promised myself I would never go through that again.”

It hurts to listen but he was the one to ask the question in the first place.

“What you said earlier, that I will find someone else,” Q starts and it’s like swallowing needles but he _needs_ to say it. “You would not imagine how MI-6 would like to see me bonded and at my full capacity, but—” a short hysterical laugh escapes his lips. “There’s never been anyone for me. You’re the only Sentinel I’ve ever felt pulled towards to.”

Unsuppressed growl of possessiveness comes out from Bond at the admission and his breathing quickens. They’re both torturing each other. But they can’t cease.

“It wasn’t that strong with _her_ as it is with you...” the Sentinel’s voice is barely a whisper. “So incredibly irresistible... We were compatible, but _you_...”

Q feels a weight on his chest that becomes heavier and heavier with every word of agent’s confession and it’s seems to go on forever. He wants to be broken to pieces and then rebuild with parts of _his_ Sentinel intermingled with him. They’re cultivating their own psychological demise and ignore the impending disaster.

“The target left five minutes ago. I’m entering the house.”

Q bits his own lip until the metallic savour hits his palate and sobers him. “In the basement, you’ll find the locked door with a fingerprint reader beside them.”

For a moment there’s distant sound of footsteps filling his skull and quartermaster can’t stop himself from sucking on the bleeding lip.

“I’m by the door.”

“Okay, wait a second.”

Q opens the window with ready algorithm and activates it. He smiles to himself when everything goes according to plan.

“Now it should recognize you as authorized to enter.”

There’s a five second silence and then, “It worked. How did you do it?”

“Overwritten some poorly firewalled commands on a server of company that secures the house... I won’t bore you with the details. What’s most important, is that you don’t leave any tracks that you’ve ever been there.”

“You’re a genius, have I ever told you that?”

The Guide inside of him almost purrs at the praise but Q does not allow himself to act like an attention-seeking girl with a crush.

“So now my inexistent complexion problem does not affect my efficiency?”

Bond lets out short honest laugh and the Guide feels it reverberate along his spine.

“Once you’re in, turn the computer on and put in the USB I gave you. And I’ll do the rest of work for you.”

The extraction of the data they need is finished in twenty-five minutes. Q is satisfied with himself - his USB receiver fulfilled its purpose and there’s no trace of his presence in the system.

“You can remove the USB and catch the next flight to London, 007.”

 _Come back_ , Q doesn’t dare to say out loud. _God damn me, but I need you closer._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU ALL for the feedback that this story is receiving. I'm still anxious about how it's turning out but the kudos and comments are a great fuel to write <3


	4. Chapter 4

Bond boards the plane back to England and feels restless. And it’s not really that uncommon, but this mission wasn’t the one which makes you high on adrenaline for hours after. He understands that Mallory does not trust him fully yet and wants to check him via less demanding assignment, but something involving more violence may have occupied the Sentinel inside of him for a while. Now he feels on edge and his fingers itch to destroy something (or – even more keenly – to touch every millimetre of his Quartermaster’s skin).

He may have said that they can’t bond but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t want it with every atom of his being. He may have said that Q will find someone else, but that doesn’t mean he won’t go feral if another Sentinel would try to get closer to him. It was hurtful to hear that Q had never met anyone compatible before, but at the same time it made the Sentinel inside of him bellow with ill satisfaction. He can’t stop wondering... Would it really fill the hole inside his chest if he bonded? If he surrenders to this primal need and claims _his_ Guide, would it truly feel that _good_ to bind yourself with another person for the rest of your life at such profound level? He has met those pairs of Sentinel and Guides who assert that it was _it_ , that they had no doubts they found their complement. And he could not deny that they seemed content and matched and indisputably happy.

But Q is so young and genius and seems so fragile, how could he be meant for him? He’s broken and old. And now there’s no chance for their faulty match to be fulfilled. But Bond _knows_ he won’t just let go. He won’t shut himself off. He _can’t_. They will both wreck each other completely and will probably savour every moment of it, just because they would do it _together_.

And they need to be careful about it. Double-ohs are supposed to be alone and Q is not someone who would accompany him out in the field – his domain is his technological magic. If MI-6 comes to know about their compatibility, one of them will be sent away to SIS’ establishment at the other end of the world and it would be made sure that 007 and the Quartermaster never meet again. That Bond would not accept.

If only they had bonded spontaneously! MI-6 would have no right to separate them or deny their rights. But as Bond was too fucked up to recognise Q as his Guide back then in the art gallery... They lost their only chance. But Bond has dealt with impossible more than once, hasn’t he?

ж

He’s having take away cinnamon coffee again and this time he manages to actually bring it to work with him. Just when he’s having his last mouthful and comes to regret he got medium instead of large, Bond walks into the Q-Branch like he belongs there. Q lets the excitement and longing fill him and double-checks his mental shields. He’s getting better at dealing with the Sentinel’s presence.

“How was the flight, 007?” the Guide asks, though he doesn’t raise his gaze from the screen in front of him where he encodes the data that Bond obtained previous night.

“Short and uneventful,” answers the agent and reposes his set of equipment on the desk, next to Q’s keyboard.

“Do we have some festivities today?” Q teases, checking the items. “All of the toys came back in one piece?”

Bond smirks. “I’m sorry to say, but getting used to it would not be advised.”

Q smiles in response and the gash at his lip re-opens. He reflexively licks the little blood that escapes from the ripped scab. Bond is watching the process _too_ intently.

“Did someone hurt you?” he asks, his voice dark and the Guide knows he is ready to tear apart anyone that would dare to cause him pain. It’s a bitter-sweet thought, he decides, as he observes the held back twitch of Bond’s hand to reach to his face.

“No, it’s my own fault,” Q assures the Sentinel. _I just can’t stop nipping at it whenever I think too much about you, because physical pain is the easiest way to sober and not get drowned in my own strained empathy._

They stay silent for a moment. Neither of them wants to get apart again.

Q turns around reflexively when he feels another Sentinel entering Q-Branch. He sees Tanner accompanied by an unknown man with an aura of an agent around him. They seem to be heading to his workstation. The Sentinel is unbonded and suddenly Q realizes the purpose of this visit. It’s yet another attempt of MI-6 to find him a match. He glances at Bond and prays that this new agent would be far from compatible.

“Good afternoon, Q” says Tanner and then nods at his companion. “This is Jonathan Ewens. Brand new asset of SIS.”

 _And_ not _a double-oh material so we want him bonded,_ Q adds in his mind. He forces himself to smile.

“It’s nice to meet you,” accosts Ewens. There’s conspicuous interest in his gaze as he extends his hand towards quartermaster. The Guide accepts it and when the skin meets skin, sparkle illuminates Sentinel’s brown eyes and Q fills with dread. Ewens found him compatible.

His shields break as fright hits him and Sentinels’ emotions strike him: Bond’s alarm as Ewens bonding pheromones spread into the air, younger man’s surprise and—

There’s a silhouette of grey wolf in front of him, his stance tense, fur bristled, teeth bared at Ewens. Bond’s spirit.

Rapidly, strong hands grasp Q’s shoulders and move him aside with paradoxical delicacy. Then hell breaks loose.

Bond lashes out at the other Sentinel and both of them go feral, before Q’s empathy calms down to an extent that allows him to take in the situation. They move with preternatural speed and Q feels dizzy. Tanner stands by him too shocked to react - he knows the law and both fighting man should be sedated, but he does not have the gun with him. He didn’t expect that.

The crack of breaking bone seems to bring Q around. These Sentinels are feral _over him_ and he needs to do something _._ He decides to follow his instinct. Ewens is pulling out a screwdriver from his thigh and the other Sentinel is kneeling next to him, swinging his arm for the next strike, when Q drops to the floor and puts his arms around Bond’s chest. He stills at the touch, letting out an incoherent roar from his throat. At the same time, Q focuses on Ewens and younger agent is brought to a standstill under the attack of Guide’s empathy... Bond’s confused growl makes Q startle and open his eyes. He sizes up zoned out Ewens with a relieved sigh and then shifts his empathy to the Sentinel in his arms. But this time he projects serenity and assurance of Bond’s exclusivity over Quartermaster. The agent becomes limp when Q’s fingers tangle into fair hair.

“Tanner,” Q says quietly in order not to ruffle Bond’s senses. “Please, take Ewens out of here. Preferably to Medical.”

“Of course, sure,” the man replies, still pale and not fully recovered from the unexpected chain of events. “What about 007?”

“To my mind no one should approach him for a moment,” Q says and can’t help the hint of the possessiveness that creeps into his voice. “Evacuating everyone from Q-Branch for at least half an hour would be a good idea too. There are no pressing missions being monitored at the moment.”

Couple of minutes later, the place is emptied with exception of a Guide and half-feral Sentinel tangled in the arms of the former. When they’re finally alone, Q allows himself to plant a brief kiss on Bond’s temple, his fingers still stroking short blond hair. The Sentinel is breathing heavily and his hands are clenched over quartermaster’s calves, as it’s the only part of the Guide he has easy access to.

“It’s okay now,” Q murmurs, letting Bond’s scent fill his nostrils and calm him as well. “I’m yours, even if you can’t have me.”

As a response, the Sentinel whimpers with exasperation, still not able to form a coherent answer. Q lets himself savour every split second of closeness with Bond. Now that Tanner knows they’re compatible, these may be his last moments with Bond ever. So he needs to preserve as many memories from _this_ as possible.

They don’t know for how long they just sit there in silence, relishing the touch and intimacy but too soon the door are opened and Tanner enters, he looks resigned and gloomy and tired. He does not approach them, only delivers a message.

“007, you are dismissed till the end of the week. Q, you are summoned to see M, _now_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short update. This week is going to be _crazy_ at my uni, so I added what I got. I hope I will manage to write something more this week.


	5. Chapter 5

Getting out of Q's embrace is one of the most difficult tasks in Bond’s life. And he overthrew governments.

Both of them realise it can be the last time they ever see each other and Q's empathy breaks under the weight of the moment. He's projecting a mess of emotions towards the Sentinel and seems unable to stop. A tangle of _your touch burns me GO AWAY don't leave me don't leave me don't leave me_ hits him and it doesn't help at all, but then maybe helps a lot. The Sentinel tenderly runs his fingers through Q’s soft hair and leaves the Q-Branch without looking back.

He’s not sure where he’s going. People lower their heads under his gaze and get out of his way instinctively. He stops abruptly the moment his feet hit the pavement out of the building. He can't make another step. It's already too much of a distance. Q is too far away.

He starts pacing in front of the door and for once he’s grateful for being known in the agency as the security just lets him walk around the Vauxhall Cross and doesn't shoo him away – especially regarding his aggressive stance and ragged appearance. His suit is ruined - the jacket is lacking one sleeve and his blood-stained shirt is gaped open due to loss of buttons, the material over his knees torn apart from flinging onto the floor too rapidly. There are a lot of nail scratches on his skin, a bite mark on one hand and bruises on the chest and back are starting to get sore. But none of it really matters to him, nevertheless he is highly satisfied with his knowledge that the other Sentinel has a stab wound in his thigh, a broken wrist and impressive collection of bruises and scratches as well - many of them on his whippersnapper face.

His thoughts keep coming back to Q as he’s finally fully recovering from the feral state. He's still hyper aware of everything, but is far from zoning out - his Guide is now the centre of his attention and his anchor. But some things that were previously lost due to his breakdown, now become transparent to him - that he’s more invested into all this than he expected, that he gave them away and brought the cease of all their clandestine not-bond, and most importantly that _Q made another Sentinel zone out without even touching him_. He had his arms around feral Bond, was unbalanced in the face of their fight and still managed to do it. Maybe one third of Guides is able to make a Sentinel zone out at all. And majority of them requires skin on skin contact to carry out the mental sedation.

Bond knew Q was a strong Guide but he never expected _that_ kind of prowess. He can’t suppress a smug smile. He is _his_ destined Guide after all. Of course he is the extraordinary one of the exceptional. No wonder MI-6 wants him bonded so badly. Once he is balanced by his Sentinel and his full potential is finally brought out... Q would be one of the most powerful Guides in the world.

ж

Q is still little shaky when he reaches M’s office. Moneypenny looks up from her papers when she hears his almost dragged steps. She must have already heard what happened.

Q had once thought she perceived Bond as a compatible Sentinel – because of the way she spoke about him yet before the Quartermaster first met him in front of a painting of a ship – but then he heard it was her fault that an empty coffin with a name ‘James Bond’ on it was buried in the ground last time. She wouldn’t have been able to pull the trigger if she ever felt _the pull_ , even under the order. Though, she still acts protective over the agent.

Now there is caring and sympathy in her eyes as Q stops in front of her desk. She grasps his hand for a brief second, projecting calm and reassurance. He’s not sure if he appreciates the gesture, so he doesn’t say anything.

“He’s waiting for you,” she nods towards the dark wooden door to her right and for Q it feels like pointing towards the gallows. He enters and, as much as he would like to decline, he accepts the invitation to sit. He is still not sure if his legs would manage to keep him standing throughout this conversation.

Gareth Mallory is an Alpha Sentinel and it’s impossible not to feel submissive in his presence. His aura is one of those that ignite unshakable allegiance inside of you, especially when you’re a Sentinel or Guide. That fact makes all this meeting inconceivably unfair.

“How long have you been hiding the fact that you and 007 are compatible, Quartermaster?”

Q licks the gash on his lip in a nervous manner.

“I felt the pull during our first meeting,” he answers truthfully. “Bond didn’t seem to reciprocate so I never mentioned it. Then, after Silva, his senses were out of control and I managed to calm him and— After his senses sharpened again, he recognised me as a match as well.” The usual confidence in his voice is gone and he can’t stop feeling like a teen being lectured by his father on knocking up his underage girlfriend.

“Why did you dissemble the occurrence?”

“I thought it would be of no concern as long as it didn’t affect our efficiency in work. We are both aware that we can’t bond.”

M eyes him carefully and Q is suddenly aware he must still smell of feral Bond. He can’t stop himself from deriving comfort from that knowledge, even though he knows how wrong that is in his recent situation.

“Is it Profound?”

Q’s eyes widen in surprise at the mention of that term. He never heard it being used in actual conversation. It’s a word used only by the old and noble Sentinel lineages. Though it sounds considerably better than the modern one that descends from pop-culture (precisely from that terrible series about vampire Sentinel pulled towards bleak Guide girl who is also compatible with a werewolf) and became the one commonly used: The Destined Match.

“You understand the term?”

The Guide almost startles. His amazement must have been too visible on his face.

“Yes, I understand.”

“So what is the answer?”

He doesn’t know what to say. If he concedes, would that be the last nail to his coffin? Or should he finally stop playing games with MI-6?

There’s an unexpected click of opened doors and Moneypenny bursts into the room.

“I am incredibly sorry, but there’s extremely important call on the second line.”

M frowns with discontent and sighs. “You are dismissed, Q. Both of you will be closely monitored from now on,” he adds and makes a gesture to hurry the Guide to leave.

Once outside the closed door to M’s office, he leans on the wall and takes a deep breath. Their status quo remains – but for how long?

ж

When Q leaves the headquarters half an hour later, after he put Daniel in charge of the Q-Branch for the rest of the day, Bond is standing in front of the building, still in his ragged clothing. The Guide opens his mouth to ask what the hell the agent is still doing there, because he can’t afford to spend any more minute in his company today, but then he sees the longing and desperation in those sky blue eyes and he suddenly doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t... I can’t have you too far...” Bond starts to mumble and a Sentinel should never look that miserably.

“It was our first and last slip,” Q simply covers his conversation with M as a response and for a moment they both just stand there, avoiding each other eyes. Q understands that Bond is unable to leave his side right now. He has just recently fought for him (and won) and now anyone near him is perceived as a threat. It would be easier if the Guide didn’t reciprocate the pull, but in their case... For Sentinel to stay in too far distance would be physically painful and dangerous for his surroundings. He can’t leave him at least until he’s sure that Q is safe in his own flat and in no danger of meeting other Sentinels.

Not that the Guide inside of the Quartermaster doesn’t feel the primal, irresistible need to comfort his Sentinel after the incident.

“I need to go home,” Q says and Bond raises his head in rapid movement, panic curving the lines on his face into the mien of anguish. The Sentinel took the words as a command to leave the Guide alone. “Escort me,” the younger man adds tenderly.

The smile that appears on Bond’s lips is almost childish. He’s still not fully recovered from the state of raw emotions after going feral and he is more expressive than Q has ever seen him. It makes his heart flinch uncontrollably.

He automatically turns left, towards the tube, but then he realizes that Bond is not poised for such a journey. There is specially sectioned off part of the train for Guides that holds the purpose of preventing any Guide from falling into empathic coma after attack of too many emotions of people crowded in a metal can underground. But Bond should not be exposed to any kind of clusters of people right now. He may even attack a Sentinel who just accidentally held his eyes on Q for a second too long.

“A cab, then,” he says to himself as he starts looking around for one.

ж

Q opens the door to his flat and freezes in the doorway. Bond is standing two steps behind him and the Guide has never before been so much at loss. He wants the Sentinel to enter with him and never leave. He turns around to face the other man even though he still has no idea what to do. What is there possibly to be done?

Bond doesn’t look at him but takes a step closer. He leans towards slowly, till his nose brushes Q’s neck. He takes a deep breath, scenting him and then his lips touch the pale skin just where the pulse point is. The Guide can’t move, can’t breathe and feels like he’s falling and the only thing that keeps him upright is the tickling sensation of Bond’s breath on his throat. He’s not sure how long they last like this but when Bond finally withdraws, it feels like he’s ripping out Q’s heart along with the movement.

Q take a step back into the flat and shuts the door. A sob escapes his lips when he leans heavily on the wall next to him and then slides down to the floor. He still feels Sentinels presence outside in the corridor and it’s agonizing.

After what feels like an eternity of lying curled up on the floor, the Guide stands up with effort and slowly walks into the bathroom. He can’t be that weak. He’s stronger than that. He’s Bond’s Guide and he’ll endure. He turns the shower on and makes a promise to himself that he will get out of it composed and in control.

When he does get out - in clean clothes, with wet hair and resolution to get a grip on his labile life – he can’t stop his legs from guiding him back to the front door. Before he thinks it through, his hands are unlocking the door and swinging them open. Bond is still there, in his ragged clothes and covered in blood, sitting on the floor next to Quartemaster's door and Q opens his mouth and talks and it all seems out of his control.

“Come in. _Please._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yesterday I passed the whole term of my phonetics (which is one of my most demanding subjects) and my teacher said I made huge progress and I'm on a good way of sounding native British, so I'm really excited and as a way of celebration I managed to write the whole new chapter for you :D
> 
> And once again, thank you all so much for reading! I never imagined this story would get such feedback! <3  
> (especially with no beta to check if my English is in fact English XD)


	6. Chapter 6

Bond raises his head and there’s confusion written on his face. But also hope and yearning.

“Just come in,” Q repeats weakly. He goes back into the flat and reckons that the agent will follow without questions. Just like he did back then, after Skyfall, when Q’s Russian blue appeared to him. He takes a seat on the arm of the couch and waits. Bond finally comes and hesitantly sits at the other end of the sofa. He doesn’t say anything but the Guide _feels_ the question hanging between them. _What are we doing?_ And Q genuinely does not have an answer. _What_ are they doing? What is _he_ doing?

His eyes land on the scratched wounds of Sentinel’s hands, unclean and almost fully scabbed.

“You’re hurt,” he says out loud and before Bond has a chance of replying, Q is already out of the room. He comes back a minute later with a first aid kit and sits next to the agent.

“ _Don’t,_ ” he restricts before the Sentinel even starts complaining that he doesn’t need help. He has already followed his nature today, went feral and exposed them. Now it’s time for Q to be allowed to be Bond’s Guide and _look after_ his Sentinel, provide him comfort and solace, as his primal instincts tell him to. He takes out a disinfectant and pours some of it on silk gauze – special ones for Sentinels. He takes a short shuddering breath before he takes Bond’s hand into his and then ceases any movement for a moment to simply savour the bitter-sweet sensations that accompany skin on skin contact.

Bond stays silent as Q tenderly cleanses the shallow wounds on the older man’s hands and forearms. It’s almost like a ritual driven by rules unknown to any of them. But for a moment they’re both closed off into their own hushed world, without any set of laws to shackle their desires and nature. Q is moving with watchfulness and concern, his slender fingers slowly dressing the scratches with plasters. When he’s done, he packs the first aid kit, puts it aside on the table and stills.

_What are we doing, really?_

When Bond’s hand touches his cheek cautiously, Q lets his eyelids close and allows other senses to take in the Sentinel. Not long after the first, second hand joins, but this time it slides from Q’s shoulder, down, and warily folds around the Guide’s waist. Slowly, with gentle force, Bond pulls the other man towards him, until he’s straddled on Sentinels lap. He takes off Q’s glasses and puts them aside on the table, next to the first aid kit. Their foreheads touch and both of them know, _this is it_. After long days of the struggle, abstention, fighting own nature – it’s all futile. They surrender.

“Q.”

“James.”

Q imagined that if they _ever_ take this step it would be more rapid, out of control and rough. But it seems like what they have now is already so intense, that they're afraid they'd choke if they took too much with their first bite. Their kiss is slow and gentle and passionate. Bond's hands cradle Guide's face and Q is grasping the other man's shirt like his life depends on it. It's so overwhelmingly good to _finally give in_ , that Q's mind is going out of control and his train of thoughts turns into stream of unintentionally projected raw emotions; _take me finally I'm yours I'm yours claim me never let go of me again_.

As their lips part for a moment, they're still sharing their breaths, gazing into each other’s eyes; impossible sky blue meeting the warm green and _it's all so obvious_. They're a Sentinel killing machine and an extraordinarily powerful Guide; destructive MI-6 agent and technical genius. Once together, who can really stop them? Who would dare face them? Nothing was ever meant to be simple for them but now it's so plain... Once bonded, they're unstoppable.

They both grin. They were so _so_ stupid. And then Bond's mouth journeys lower, to the neck and Q almost sobs with need. Sentinel is leaving a trail of kisses on the bared throat, the tension between them rising with every quickened breath.

“For god’s sake, _James_ , we’ve waited enough, just—” Q whimpers and Bond holds him even more tightly, but complies. He bites into the pale neck and grunts with overwhelming satisfaction. The Guide feels his whole body filling with heat, every fibre of his being surrendering to the Sentinel. A moan escapes his lips as Bond’s mouth leave a painful bruise on his throat and it’s the most sublime moment of his life. The bonding started.

“We shed— _fuck_ ” Q starts saying and then giggles at himself, because he’s suddenly incapable of producing coherent sentence (and because he’s just so ridiculously _happy_ ) _._ “W-we _should..._ ” he tries again, trembling under the touch of Bond’s hands that already took of his cardigan. “...m-move t— bedroom.”

As a response, Bond shifts them and then guides Q’s legs to wrap around his hips and arms around his neck. He gets up, doesn’t falter even a little despite additional weight and heads to the corridor. Guide can’t hold back the affectionate “My Sentinel, _mine_ ” at the demonstration of the other man’s strength and Bond gives him a possessive grin.

They stop halfway, when Bond impatiently pins the Guide to the wall and kisses him thoroughly. It’s their first kiss this passionate and hungry and Q moans invitingly when Sentinel’s tongue explores his mouth. Every millimetre of skin that touches Bond’s bare skin is burning him deliciously and he _needs more_. When they part to take a breath, the agent lets go of Q’s hips and, without any instruction needed, the younger man slides to stand on the floor on his own. Sentinel praises him with a low appreciating hum and nibbles at the bruise at his neck that symbolizes their bonding. Bond’s hands make a trail of caress along Q’s arms, until they reach the slender wrists and almost violently pin them to the wall on both sides of Guide’s head.

Q’s breath shakes when Bond takes one of his fingers into his mouth and licks around it like he is trying to remember every line that’s imprinted into the pale skin. He doesn’t know how long it takes before every finger of his right hand has been explored by Bond, but by then, his mind is completely blank and everything that matters, everything that _is,_ is _his_ Sentinel.

His knees finally give out, the bonding heat fully kicking in, when Bond is kissing his wrist, hot tongue resting against Q’s pulse. He catches the Guide instantly.

“Bedr’m... Told you—” Q murmurs apologetically when Sentinel takes him into his arms. Q clings to him desperately, opening Bond’s shirt wider and pressing messy kisses to his collarbone. “I need y’— _More_ —”

Bond puts him gently on the bed and straddles his hips straightaway. There’s a shirt still remaining on quartermaster’s chest and now Sentinel rips it impatiently and throws the cloth blindly to the side. He leans in and buries his nose into Guide’s neck, taking in his scent once again. He groans when Q entangles his fingers with short blond hair and keeps them there as Bond makes a path of kisses and teasing bites across the younger man’s chest. When agent’s mouth reaches Q’s hip, Guide pulls him back and attacks his lips with another heated kiss. His hands slide from Sentinel’s hair to his shoulders and tries to get the other man out of his ragged clothes. Bond removes his torn jacket and shirt with few quick motions and then lies down again. They moan in unison as the skin of their uncovered chests meet. Q can’t suppress the thrust of his hips and their erections rub through the layers of fabric. Bond’s teeth sink once again in Guide’s skin, but this time on the other side, on the shoulder. Q shudders under him.

“ _Yes_ — Mark me, I’m yours.”

“Mine, mine, _mine_...” Bond repeats like an incantation, first and only word he manages to say since the bonding started. Eagerly, Q starts unzipping Sentinel’s trousers and swiftly Bond mimics his actions. When they’re both entirely naked, agent’s lips find its way to Guide’s thigh. He leaves another mark there, letting out predatory growl muted against the bruised skin.

When Bond’s mouth closes on Q’s cock, he grasps handful of sheets as his hands clench under the new wave of pleasure. Sentinel notes every little reaction that the younger man gives, every whimper and thrust of hips and instantly employs his freshly obtained knowledge to draw complete acquiescence in Q.

As Bond’s finger starts to teasingly encircle around Q’s opening, Guide copes to trigger his mind to create a coherent thought. “Lube. Drawer.” His hand stretches up to point at the bedside table. Sentinel continues sucking for another couple of seconds before he lifts himself and moves to fetch the lubricant. One of his hands stays entangled with Q’s fingers. They can’t fully part even for a second now. Agent fishes out the bottle and comes back hastily onto the bed. Q clings to him the moment the other man is in reach again. Bonding heat is making him dizzy and his mind centred only on the Sentinel. His Sentinel.

Once coated in lube, calloused fingers begin to stretch him slowly while Bond’s mouth explores more of quartermaster’s body. In a few days, Sentinel will know by heart the taste and texture of every millimetre of his Guide’s skin, the sound of blood running in his veins, smell of his hair, and the exact pace of his breathing while sleeping, working at his laptop, drinking his tea, climaxing. There would be no one else in the world to know Q that well and no one else Q would allow it to such extent.

He enters Guide’s body in a measured motion, kissing his lips possessively. They try to savour every moment of this ultimate connection; it’s not only carnal union, but the fulfilling moment of forming their bond. Bond swiftly sets up a pace that makes Q sink his nails into Sentinels muscular back. When they’re both too close, he slows down and gets an impatient groan and two new scratches on his skin as a response. He answers with another bite to the Guide’s neck and then elevates his lover to the sitting position. Q moans loudly when Bond’s cock fills him fully once he’s posed on Sentinel’s lap.

“My Sentinel,” he manages to articulate between quickened breaths and muffled moans.

“My Guide,” Bond replies against pale sweated shoulder.

As their orgasm hits simultaneously, their minds turn blank and for a moment whole world explodes in white.

Awakening comes gradually as they’re lying tightly embracing each other. Coming back to consciousness is like no other feeling they have ever experienced. From now on, they’re one. Their souls are a unity, their minds start to intermingle in the most unique way known to any beings. They are still panting, their senses out of focus, but they can _feel_ their hearts beating out the same rhythm.

It’s done. Nothing and no one will separate them now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You have no idea how nervous I am about this chapter.  
> It's my variation about bonding (I have no idea if there're any canon things that should be included in this act) and can't remember last time I have written proper sex scene...
> 
> Anyway. I hope it's tolerable.


	7. Chapter 7

_Received: Today, 6:28 am_  
**FROM:** Q;  
**TO:**  M;  
**SUBJECT:** change of status

_**Bond, James** _  
_007_  
_Agent /active_  
_Sentinel_

_Change of status to_ BONDED

_***** _

_**[Classified]** _  
_Q_  
_Head of Q-Branch_  
_Guide_

_Change of status to_ BONDED

 

PS: _e-mail contact with Q-Branch will be maintained throughout the period of obligatory post-bonding leave of absence._

* * *

 

Message came directly to him, without any go-betweens. Q knew it is too crucial information to fall into hands of wrong person.

M sits in his chair and stares at the message from the Quartermaster as his freshly brewed coffee is getting cold. Q made sure it will be the first e-mail he would come across when he turns his computer on.

Sentinel honestly hates to admit of feeling at loss, but this is exactly what is happening now.

There is possibility of breaking the bond within the first hours of bonding. But would he _dare_ to try?

Priorities in both Bond and Q shifted permanently, Queen and Country will always be on the second place from now on, right after the bond and their partner (and Mallory knows that from his own experience).

Bond is irreversibly broken man and extremely dangerous Sentinel. And no one knows what level Q’s Guide abilities will reach once he’s bonded; and he can be lethal without them, access to a computer is enough. M hates to admit it, but now they are automatically becoming a liability – especially regarding the fact that their compatibility had met with deprecation from MI-6 from the very beginning.

Alpha Sentinel Mallory would do almost anything to have this duo on the right side.

What cards does he need to play now in order not to turn this quandary into pointless instinct-driven carnage?

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _So... This was the 'epilogue'._   
>  _But as you probably already noticed, I made a series out of it, so-- yes: there will be continuation. But I can't tell you when._   
>  _I'm having exam session next week and my other ff are begging to be updated. But, plot bunnies for at least two oneshots in this AU are running around in my head and I really would like to write them down._   
>  _Anyway - THANK YOU ALL for reading this story. It was non-beta'd from the beginning to the very end, so thank you with putting up with any grammar/vocab mistakes my non-native brain may have come up with. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. It is my most 'succesfull' story here regarding the kudos and bookmarks. So really, THANK YOU._

**Author's Note:**

> PS: I'm on [tumblr](http://missmho.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/hoodedmiho) if anyone wants to fangirl over Daniel Craig's eyes. ;>


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